Putting the "Self" in "Paralyzing Self-Consciousness" since the 20th century.

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

I Want To Fly Like An Eagle

Before I delve into my totally reasonable response
to air travel, something completely different. About three months ago, my
daughter did a Kickstarter for a new social media idea, Xirkl. If you haven’t
checked it out, please do. I might be a little prejudiced but I think she did a
good job. Quite a few other people did as well; she hit the magic fundraising
number and has spent the past couple of months working with many smart people
to get it ready. The Kickstarter supporters got first dibs on their names and
now…it’s your turn! Go here and get yourself the name of your choosing, five
letters or more, for ABSOLUTELY NO MONEY! FREE! GRATIS! I CAN’T THINK OF ANY
OTHER WORDS FOR IT! Think about it; for once, you could have a name on social
media like “Thomas” not “Thomas1042”

GO DO THIS RIGHT NOW! And then come back and I’ll
tell you about my relationship with flight.

"You know that being afraid of flying is
completely irrational, right?"

If you're in my life, you've told me this. Friends,
family, loved ones, the guy at the broccoli stand at the farmer's market,
you've taken the time to tell me I'm nuts.

I'm well aware you feel that way. But let me
explain the truth and then you will understand that is not me who is
irrational, but YOU! You, flyers, you are the foolish ones! You will join we
enlightened few who get nauseated at the smell of jet fuel and the thought
of an Adam Sandler movie on a small screen!

“Flying in an airplane is much safer than driving
in a car.”

Everyone begins with this one. Everyone. And yes, statistically, the thing on the ground is far
more likely to kill you than the thing in the sky. But most people spend far
more time in a car than an airplane so it has greater chances of being the
thing that kills you. Also, you know what cars have? Fender-benders. Scrapes. Things
I believe what the insurance industry refers to as “Whoopsies.”Because when the driver makes a small mistake
or the car has an off day, it doesn’t then PLUMMET MILES TO EARTH. I speak from
some experience having been in no fewer than five car accidents where the car
was totaled.

(All but one of these, I was a passenger, You might
want to let me drive.)

The worst of my accidents was on the freeway,
involving a lawn chair flying off an RV, caroming under our wheels, causing us
to spin out, hitting the center divider six times and ending up facing oncoming
traffic. I was cut from the car. I did not feel well but felt considerably
better than if all of this had happened MILES IN THE AIR and no, I have no idea
how in the plane version of this accident a lawn chair gets miles into the air.

For a while my mantra on planes was “Naomi
Campbell” because, well, she flew all the time for decades – even on those
mechanized mosquitos which take you to tiny expensive Caribbean islands – and not
only is she not dead, she has a Russian oligarch billionaire boyfriend. I don’t
know why that last bit mattered but it gave me some comfort. Statistically, if
flying is going to kill someone, it should have gotten Naomi Campbell long
before me.

But this only works until I realize we’re
MILES IN THE AIR IN A TUBE FLOUTING PHYSICAL LAWS I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.Which is when I have a drink and settle into
my favorite in-flight isometric exercise: not screaming.

But while flying to Italy, I cannot drink to the
point of indifference because I will be with the kid and her lovely fellow
students, and starting this adventure reeking of vodka and nap-drooling will,
I fear, set the wrong tone. Neither can I scream quietly and clutch strangers
while mumbling “I take refuge in Naomi!” because I believe that would do my
daughter permanent social harm. Which leads me to the most recent person
to tell me I’m a lunatic: my hypnotherapist.

I love hypnosis, as I’m ridiculously susceptible. It’s like a controlled nap. I’m listening to the tape and I hear her tell me to
start counting backwards from ten and the next thing I hear is “Three, two,
one. You feel awake and refreshed.” And I do! Of course, a half hour has passed
and I have no idea what my post-hypnotic suggestion is. I choose to believe it’s
what we discussed in the meeting, that I will be calm and happy on the flight.
She could, however, be encouraging me to find my inner Naomi by deciding a
stranger on the flight is my assistant and throwing a phone at her head. With mere days
left until we travel, my only prayer is that my version of Naomi combines her airborne sangfroid with my lousy pitching arm.

Quinn, just let me say that as a professional mechanical engineer of 25+ years...you are absolutely correct.I hate flying. HATE. HATE. HATE.I have had the added advantage of studying cases of "what the Hell happened" when I've taken CE courses for Lean Six Sigma and Total Quality Control and for some reason, the instructors ALWAYS want our case studies to be an instance where some tiny little $3 do-dad caused the entire plane to fly apart. I know, I'm not helping.But I WILL say that most of the instances of spontaneous come-aparts happen on small, private planes and not the big commercial, frequently checked and certified planes.Also? Xanax.I'm not a huge fan of pharmaceutical solutions...but this is the one I use when I fly. Low dose...mellows you out for 2-4 hours and you don't get that annoying slurring and drooling that you do with vodka. Not that I'm knocking vodka.